“Yes, I mean to Aoyama, just up there on the hills, my Junzo. It would be a little journey, and I—I want just once again in my life to loiter in the gardens.”
“You have already been there, then?” he asked, with some astonishment.
She caught her breath, then simply bowed her head.
“I have been there in fancy, Junzo, or perhaps it was in dreams,” was her reply. “Will you not go with me sometime, in fact?”
He hesitated, and moved uncomfortably.
“I do not understand your fancy,” he said.
“Well, make the little journey with me, will you not?”
“The palace is not public property,” he answered.
As she did not respond at once, he seized the opportunity to continue their walk, thinking in this way to divert her. It was growing softly darker. In the twilight her face was so ethereal and perfect that the artist could not take his eyes from it. Suddenly she said quite simply:—
“You have fame at court, and so you could obtain a pass to enter the grounds.”